


Five Times Crystal and Lee ended up in bed together (and one time they didn't)

by leila_samia



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-11
Updated: 2010-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-12 03:10:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leila_samia/pseuds/leila_samia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Crystal and Lee ended up in bed together (and one time they didn't)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own them, not real, please don't sue. I'm judgment proof anyway, and trust me, the principle of the matter isn't enough. Promise

_Couldn't if you tried_  
Lee was starting to think maybe alcohol was the devil. It never felt like a bad idea when he started drinking, but at some point, he'd think he was invincible and way cooler than he actually was and he'd start bragging about hwo he was "totally still sober man, I don't feel anything!" This inevitably lead to someone laughing at him (lately it was Mike) or telling him to sit down (lately that was Casey), which, you know, good idea. The problem was that he was drunk and immune to good ideas.

Then he'd have to prove himself and that always meant shots, and then he'd be here: in bed, wishing someone could turn down the sun, praying for the ceiling to stop spinning, and thinking maybe death would be better.

This time, "here" included another person in his bed, which. Fuck. This didn't look like his room, so hopefully that meant he could escape and oh fuck, that wasn't going to happen. Trying to sit up made his head feel like it was about to fall off, and seriously, had his feet grown or something last night?

"If you throw up on me, I'll kick your ass. And make you wear lace panties for press tomorrow," said the person next to him. He recognized that voice. He turned gingerly, seeing blonde dreads. Shit.

"Crystal? Did...what...fuck, ouch," he said, regretting turning his head.

She turned to face him. "Good morning to you too, sunshine." She squinted at him. "Seriously. Throw up and I'll kill you."

Lee closed his mouth, swallowed down the bile, the hangover, the overwhelming fear that he'd done something very, very stupid. "Did we...what..." he began. He closed his eyes tightly, took a deep breath, began again. "Er...last night," he said, opening his eyes. Crystal was watching him, amused. "Did anything, you know, us and like..." he trailed off again.

She laughed, taking pity on him. "Relax. You just slept here." He let out a sigh of relief (regret?), holding his hands up when she mock glared at him. "You were, uh." She laughed again. "You locked yourself out of your room, you couldn't find your key, and you kept knocking on my door. I figured you shouldn't be alone, so I brought you in here." She rolled over completely, faced him. "So don't worry, nothing happened."

He let out a deep breath, opened his mouth to speak. "Besides," she said, interrupting him. She smirked, raised a brow. "You were really drunk."

He groaned and threw an arm over his face to the sound of her laugh.

 _A place by your side_

It had been a couple of years since all ten of them had been together, so when Katie and Casey and Tim all had meetings in LA within days of each other, and Crystal would be coming off her tour, Crystal called Lee and told him she expected a big welcome home party. ("But only the 10 of us," she'd said. "Not very big," he'd retorted. "Big enough, it's everyone I want to see," came her reply, and he felt warm at her voice, warm at knowing they'd see each other again.)

He hung up with her, shot off an email. Nine replies came back almost instantly, all saying yes of course. A second later, nine more texts came through, all reminding him to tell his assistant. He rolled his eyes. They'd never let him live it down, even though it was three years ago, back when he was still getting used to the idea of having someone that was just there to help him. He texted Anna, scowled when she replied "I know, they already told me." He thought about sending her a text threatening to not give her a bonus, but then she texted again with plans for his gathering, and he thought a raise might be better.

Two weeks passed quickly, and then his house was being invaded, and even though he'd seen all of them within the last six months, and talked to all of them more recently, he felt himself get more excited each time the doorbell rang.

And then Crystal arrived, the last one, not really all that late, but disheveled and sleepy-eyed, apologizing with a grin, "Sorry, I was asleep, I think I've been asleep for two days!" The rest of them teased her about being a diva, about needing to make an entrance, and she took the good-natured ribbing in stride, hugging them all tightly.

They caught up as they ate, wine flowing freely. When the food was done and they were too stuffed to eat anything more, they opened another couple of bottles, toasted Anna for a job well done. They moved to Lee's living room, where they fell into their old habit of singing together, gathering around the piano or grabbing their guitars, taking turns. They played snippets of stuff they were working on, a private writers' showcase in Lee's living room. And when the flow of wine slowed, and they became tired, people started dozing where they sat. the girls got up, moved to the guest room to change, and Lee got up to put things away before heading to his room.

As he changed, there was a quiet knock on the door. It opened slowly, Crystal coming in, moving to his bed. He stared at her, just buzzed enough to feel slow. She shrugged. "Katie and Siobhan and Didi took over the guest bed, and it's big, but Didi kicks and Siobhan snores." She sat on the bed, swung her legs up. "It's not fair you get this to yourself. He shrugged, crawled in next to her. She rolled over. "Watch your hands," she said.

"Watch yours," he replied.

When he woke up, she was curled up next to him, an arm thrown over his chest, his arm around her back. He ran his hand over her back, closed his eyes tightly, tried not to think about it.

 _Baby it's cold outside_

When you're traveling around the country in a bunch of buses and barely staying in one place for longer than a day, it's inevitable that something is going to go wrong. It's even inevitable that many somethings would go wrong. The problem, Lee thought, was when those many somethings went wrong at the same damn time. Over the course of three days, they'd had sound trouble, wardrobe trouble, luggage trouble, and now bus trouble. First there was the air conditioning on the boys' bus. At first, they were all ecstatic that the air conditioning was on full blast, especially driving through the middle of the country, especially when they'd step outside and feel like they couldn't breathe from the heat. Then came the week of fail, and everything went wrong, and the fucking air conditioning wouldn't turn off, and then they were freezing all the fucking time, and seriously? This sucked for their vocal cords.

And then the girls' bus had some sort of plumbing issue, and what the fuck was wrong with everything this year, anyway. So then the smell got to be too much, and they had to move on, and Siobhan just asked "well why don't we move onto the boys' bus, there's only four of us, you know?" And she was totally nonchalant about it, like that wouldn't put them at fifteen people on the bus, but that was Siobhan, she was always like that. So the girls moved onto the bus and brought their crap with them, and the boys watched helplessly as the small space they had got even tighter.

It ended up being more fun than they expected, especially once they realized that it would be a short time only. The girls were a good time, and even though they didn't spend that much time apart, squeezing in like this was kind of cool. The boys had gotten bored with each other, kind of, so now that they were all together, it was like something new. They all ignored the additional crew on the bus, and just sat down, crowded in the small back room and played.

The only problem came when it was time to sleep. With fifteen people total and only twelve beds, it became a shuffle trying to find space, with some of the guys even offering to sleep in the back room. Finally, though, everyone had a place and settled into their beds.

Lee went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, walked back to his bunk absentmindedly, thinking of changing up the arrangement on one of his songs. He pulled back the curtain on his bunk and was startled when he saw someone in there. Stuttering out an apology, he paused when the body turned, startled again when he saw it was Crystal. "What...did you want the bed?"

Crystal reached out a hand, grabbed his wrist, pulled. "The back room is crowded," she murmured, tugging harder. He let her pull him onto the bed, ducked into it, tucked himself in next to her. "Besides," she said. "It was freezing out there. How are you guys functioning?"

He grabbed the blanket, threw it over the two of them. "Lots of blankets and sweatshirts," he replied. He moved his arm, tucked it behind his head, turned and moved to give himself some space. "Good?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. She curled in next to him. "Well, I'm glad I don't need extra blankets," she said, moving her bare feet onto his bare calves. She giggled as he jumped, snorted when he hit his head on the wall of the bunk. "I've got my own personal space heater!"

He flicked her, kicked her feet away. "Do it again, I'll push you out of here," he threatened. She laughed again, tucked in closer to him.

When they woke up the next morning, stumbled from the bunk, they were met with a few raised eyebrows, some side-eye glances. Crystal snorted as she walked to the bathroom to brush her teeth. "Oh, please," she said, over her shoulder. "Do you really think I'm not good enough that you wouldn't hear _anything_?" The rest of them laughed, and Lee willed his blush to go down, resolutely ignoring the looks from Siobhan and Katie.

 _And the winds long to play with your hair_

They'd been on the road for almost a week straight, back to back to back travel, so when they got a hotel night, everyone was so excited to be able to spread out, so excited to have a night of freedom. Sure, they had to be up early the next morning, but it didn't seem to matter, not when they had the chance to go somewhere. Granted, "somewhere" was probably the hotel bar, unless Andrew could find someplace that was nearby, but it was something other than the bus, other than a venue, and other than a radio station. At this point, anything new was a good thing.

Once they settled in, everyone gathered in Andrew's room. Except for Crystal. Lee leaned against the dresser, biting the edge of his thumb, watching the door. Everyone showed up, and still no Crystal. He pulled out his phone, sent her a text. A few seconds later, his phone beeped. He made a face, looked up. "Crystal feels like shit, she's not coming."

Everyone looked at him, groaned. But at the end of the day, they weren't about to change their plans, and besides, it wasn't like Crystal would want them to, right? So they headed out, to some bar Andrew found, a few blocks from the hotel. Lee hung out and joked with everyone, but he felt antsy, felt like he was in the wrong place. After twenty minutes, he made excuses, said he was tired, said he was heading back to the hotel to crash.

Ten minutes later, he knocked on Crystal's door. From inside came a quiet "just a second." He could hear her padding through the room, each step meaningful and efficient, but never too fast. He mentally smacked himself, realizing how stupid it was to think about the way she walked, how stupid he was to focus on something like that.

She opened the door, leaned on it. Her hair was pulled back, wrapped in a messy knot of dreads. She was in a long black tank top, loose flowing pants. She had her glasses on, eyes tired behind the lenses. He pushed the stray thoughts about her walk, about the way she looked, about all of it, pushed it from his mind. "Hey," he said.

"Hi," she replied. "I thought you were out?"

He shook his head. "Nah, the beer sucked." He held up the paper bag in his hand. "Besides. I figured you might be hungry."

Her gaze moved to the bag, she inhaled deeply. "Yes, oh my god, thank you."

He laughed, pushed in past her, handed her the bag. "Burger, fries, and," he said, bringing the other hand up. "A chocolate milkshake. Uh. I hope you're not that kind of sick."

She laughed, closed the door. "No. Oh, this is perfect, thank you. I was so hungry but didn't feel like leaving, and oh god these fries are perfect."

He kicked off his shoes, made his way to the bed, looked at her over his shoulder. "So. What's wrong? Can't stand us, had to make excuses to get away from us?"

She sat on the bed next to him, emptied the fries out on a napkin. "No, I'm fine, mostly. Just tired. You know. Traveling and all." He nodded, picking up some fries. "Besides," she continued. "Cramps. I just. Ugh." He made a face, waving the fries. "Oh god, chill, it's not like I'm giving details or anything! I'm just sore. I was going to take a bath, but ehhhh, it's so much work."

Lee rolled his eyes. "Sorry princess, did you need someone to get your bath ready?" He laughed, ducking as she threw a fry at him.

"Ass," she laughed. "I'll survive, I suppose," she said, with a mock sigh. "Want to stay and watch a movie with me?"

"No, I brought two burgers in case you were really really hungry," he said, grabbing the bag, pulling out the burgers, handing her one.

She took the hamburger, unwrapped it. "Just for that, we're watching the girliest movie I can find," she said.

He tried to protest, but he kind of didn't care, not really. She found something on tv, and they promptly ignored it, settling in cross-legged on the bed. Instead of watching whatever crap movie the hotel had playing, they chatted about the running around they had to do, their troubles with their labels, their plans to change up their sets each night, trying not to get bored.

Lee finished his burger, crumpled the greasy wrapper, tossed it into the trash. He turned back and faced her, caught her watching him. "Hmmm?" he asked.

She reached out a hand, brushed the inside of his arm. "We should get one," she said. "Like, the two of us. At our home shows."

He looked at her hand brushing his tattoo, thought about it. "Yeah. Something for, like, this," he said, inelegantly, gesturing with his free hand, like he could encompass the whole experience.

Crystal nodded, lay down on her stomach, grabbed a notebook from next to the bed. He lay down next to her, turned the tv down. They started talking through some ideas, things they both liked, then started sketching, first tattoos, then bad album art.

An hour later, they had barely moved, still on the bed, still working. Lee was on his back, feet hanging over the side of the bed, Crystal lying with her head on his stomach, notebook in the air. The page was covered in scribbles, a song she'd been stuck on, now moved forward with his help. It wasn't perfect, or even near done, but it was getting there.

Crystal trailed off, tapped her pen against the bed. "I don't think I can think anymore."

Lee hummed. "I don't want to move."

She laughed. "I don't want you to move! You make a good pillow."

He snorted, pulled one of her dreads. "Just for that, I should leave." She laughed again. He wasn't going to. They both knew it. "Feeling better?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah," she said. "Apparently I just needed a burger, a milkshake, and some creative juices." They sat quietly, Lee starting to doze. "Hey, Lee?" Crystal said quietly.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Thanks for coming back," she said.

He tugged her dread again. "Anytime."

 _When we turn to one another_

Lee lucked out and found a place in LA, like, instantly, and first, and then he set out trying to get Crystal to move soon. But he was a single guy and only had himself to worry about, and she had Tony and school and daycare and "Lee, it's harder now that I won't have my dad down the street. How do I do this?" And he got that, how could he not. But he was there, and he'd be able to help, however she needed.

He didn't tell her that. Instead, he looked up listings, offered his house if she needed to stay in LA. And then, after months of searching, they pulled up to the perfect house. It was perfect. He could see it in her face, knew it before they walked inside. It had everything she needed, room for her and Tony and extra space for her dad, or for him. "You know, when you babysit for me," she said, nudging him with an elbow. And he could babysit, he was close enough, she'd found the perfect place and it was ten minutes from him.

Of course, finding a place was only step one. She still had to move, and she had a moment of panic when she realized she didn't have enough stuff to fill the place, not really, but that was fine, she could find that stuff, he could help, just so long as she was there, in LA.

She brought out the few things she had and wanted to keep – a couch, a vanity, a rocking chair, some kitchen stuff. She roped him into helping her paint, into getting the house ready for the rest of the furniture she needed. Then she dragged him out shopping with her, getting his opinion on everything. She bribed him with pizza and beer, got him to help set up some furniture, rearrange rooms, do the hard work.

At the end of the day, she had Tony's little bed set up, his room painted blue and decorated like the ocean. Her bed was in place, a huge king, her first new bed ever. They'd shopped for two days, collapsing on every mattress in what felt like every store between Calabasas and San Diego. (He had said that, the third to last place, dangerously close to whining. She'd slugged him in the arm, rolled her eyes, told him she was pretty sure Tony could handle this better. He'd given her a light shove, told her he was pretty sure there were laws against this. They'd stopped, stared at each other, turned, and left, went and got food. Shopping was easier after that.) In the living room was her old couch, one of the few items she brought with her. It was old, and beaten up, but for Crystal, "it's a part of home. It's the first piece I ever bought myself. Is it weird, to want it out here?"

Lee said no, it wasn't, and took the pizza box from her, out to the dining room, where they ate – finally – sitting on the floor where the table and chairs would go the next day. As they ate, Crystal described her plans for the rest of the house, the writing studio for the basement, the garden she wanted.

They finished the beer ("there's no fridge yet anyway, where am I going to put it, right?") and Lee stood to leave, stretching, feeling the ache in all his muscles. "I'll be back tomorrow. Early, yeah?"

Crystal stood, wiped her hands on her pants. "Seriously, just stay. You'll have to be back so early, and it's already late." She laughed. "Besides, it's not like there isn't space, you know?"

Lee thought about protesting, but the short drive home suddenly seemed so long. He nodded, followed her out of the room. She handed him a towel, sent him off to shower while she cleaned up. He was standing under the hot spray when he heard the other shower start. He resolutely kept his mind focused, quickly rinsed his hair, shut off the water. He climbed out of the tub, suddenly feeling the exhaustion completely. He couldn't wait to crawl into bed, sure he'd fall asleep right away.

Of course, "bed" was actually the oldest couch in the history of ever, and falling asleep would have been easier if he could turn over without feeling every lump in it – seriously, were there potatoes in here? - or if he could move without pulling the blanket off his feet. He tried to get comfortable, tried to cover himself, but the vent was right over him, and seriously, he didn't remember this couch sucking so much, Crystal couldn't keep it. He was burning it in the morning.

He turned a few more times, resigned himself to not sleeping. Except...there was a bed. And it was huge. And he knew it was comfortable, he'd tried it, in the store. But there was Crystal, it was Crystal's bed and she'd be sleeping in it, he should stay out here. Except it was a huge bed, and they were friends, and they were just sleeping, and it wouldn't have been the first time they'd share a bed, and he kicked the blanket off him, padded into her room, slid in quietly. She sat up a little as he came in, squinted at him in the dark. "Lee?" she asked.

"God, your couch sucks. Burn it, or something," he said as he sat on the bed next to her. "Move over, I can't sleep."

She snorted, scooted over, made room for him. "I see how it is, do all that work for me, expect a real bed or something."

He burrowed under the covers, let out a sigh of comfort, reached out and swatted Crystal when she giggled. "Oh god, you're not allowed to move ever again, I'm never helping you, this bed is perfect."

She laughed again. "Whatever DeWyze. You sleep here, you owe me at least a full day of work tomorrow."

"Anything, just shut up and let me sleep," he said, dozing off. He could hear her laugh, heard her say something at him, but he didn't care.

When he woke up the next morning, she was up already. He went to the kitchen, found her with a bagel and a giant cup of coffee. "Black, one sugar. Delivery people called, they'll be here in ten. Eat up."

He took the cup from her, took a sip. Perfect. "So, I'm thinking. It wouldn't take too much to burn that couch, right?" He ducked at the napkin she threw at him, laughed.

 **(And one time they didn't)**

 _Desire is in men a hunger_

Award shows were, without a doubt, the most boring industry event ever. Well, except for the Golden Globes, which neither of them was cool enough to get to attend, but it's what they'd heard from Casey who was dating the actress-of-the-day. At the Globes, you got to drink. No other award show let you do that. Even the parties, with the label people and the schmoozing and whatever, even they gave you booze. The Grammys, for all it was supposed to be fun and weird and artsy and rock-n-roll (whatever that meant anymore), they couldn't manage to provide booze. Lee seriously wished he'd slipped a flask into his suit, wondered why the fuck he was even in a suit, because he was pretty sure that was some teen pop wonder wearing jeans, and U2 were all in like, crocodile and pvc or some shit, and he was stuck in a suit. Without a flask. Seriously.

He tugged on his tie again, squirmed in his seat. Beside him, Crystal rested a hand on his thigh, squeezed once. It was a warning, the way she did with Tony sometimes. He was pretty sure it was a warning, at least. Except the hand settled a little high on his thigh, and seriously? That was just mean. He glared at her, side eye, caught her glancing back at him, smirk on her face. She squeezed again. He slouched further, watched the banter on stage, checked his phone. Crystal reached out a hand, took his phone from him, held his hand. He looked down at her hand in his, interlaced their fingers, squeezed her hand. She looked at him, then, bright smile. He grinned back, squeezed her hand again, settled into his seat. Two hours. He could do this.

Of course, two hours is still two hours and would never feel short, not when there was awkward banter and horrible performances – seriously, if he never got a Grammy and one of those hacks did, he was quitting life – not even with Crystal's hand in his for the rest of the show. But then – finally – it was done and they could leave, and they got into the car and Crystal leaned over the divider, said to the driver "I think we're going to the after party."

"No, we're not," Lee said. "I'm in a tie! It's going to be awful."

Crystal glanced at him. "No one made you wear a tie." She turned back to the driver. "After party. It won't be for long," she said, half to Lee.

He groaned, settled into his seat. "I hate you. This is going to be awful." She laughed in response.

If he was being fair, the party didn't totally suck. He loosened his tie, rolled up his shirt sleeves, felt a little better. Crystal handed him a beer, took one herself, turned to talk to a friend who had joined them. He listened in on their conversation, hand resting on her lower back, absentmindedly rubbing circles, feeling the soft fabric under his hand. They were joined by some writers they knew, plus Casey on the arm of a new actress friend. And it wasn't bad. It was kind of nice to relax, catch up with friends.

Somewhere between the second and third beer, Crystal leaned back against him. "Having fun?" she asked.

He slid his arm around her waist, thought about it. He was having fun. But "I'd rather be home," he said, tugging her closer.

She laughed, turned to face him. She stretched up, dropped a soft kiss on his lips. "Soon," she said, before dragging him off to talk to someone else.

He watched her in front of him, watched the light material of her dress shift over her back, hips, ass, thighs. He stopped, tugged her hand. "No. Now."

She turned, looked at him, nodded. "Yeah."

They got in the car, told the driver to take them back to his house. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, listened to her talk about maybe collaborating with one of the people she'd talked to, let her voice wash over him. He opened his eyes, sat up, leaned over and kissed her, smiled and shook his head when she looked at him quizzically. She smiled back, leaned into him, kept telling her story.

They got to the house, thanked the driver. Lee opened the door, held it for Crystal, followed her inside, closed the door behind them, grabbed her wrist to keep her from walking away, tugged her to him. She looked up at him, smiled. "Hi."

"Hi," he said, bringing both hands to the side of her face, lowering his mouth to hers, taking her lips in a deep kiss. She brought her arms around his waist, deepened their kiss. He dropped his hands, stepped back. "I hate those parties." She laughed, went to take a step back. He wrapped his arms around her, picked her up, spun her around, pushed her against the door. "No, really. I hate those. Can we be those people who are mysterious and never go?"

She laughed, wrapped a leg around his hip, let her flats drop off behind him. "You can convince me, sure." She leaned down, kissed him. He slid a hand up her thigh, slipped his hand under the hem of her dress, slid it up to bare her leg. "You know, this is a good start."

He bit at her lip, dug his fingers into her bared hip, fingered at the thin material of her panties. "You never wear these," he said.

She rolled her body into him. "Hate them," she gasped as he dropped his mouth to her throat. "They're horrible, but they don't show."

He pulled back, released her leg, let her settle back on the floor, kept her dress hiked up around her hips. "Well, if you hate them that much..."

She laughed. "You know, there's a bed, Lee. It's upstairs, really big? Pretty comfortable, remember?"

Lee leaned down again, kissed the corner of her mouth, trailed his mouth down to her throat. "No. Can't keep you in these longer, you hate them." He slid a hand across her hip, across her stomach, down, curled his fingers up. She bucked into his palm. He moved his hand back up to her stomach, pushed her back against the door. "Don't move." he said, before dropping to his knees.

She laughed, threaded a hand into his hair. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He held a hand to her stomach, pushed her firmly against the wall, nuzzled the curve of her belly, above the line of her panties. Her dress dropped, blocking him, and he rucked it up, tucked it behind her. He hooked his thumbs into the band of her panties, slid them down her hips, followed it with his mouth. He helped her kick them off, shoved them from under her feet, across the floor. Moving his way back up, he pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, followed it with a nip of teeth, heard a sharp intake of breath above him, felt her fingers tighten around his hair. He moved his hand back up her thigh, rested it on her stomach, brought his other hand up the inside of her other leg, nudged her thighs apart. She cooperated, breathed out a quiet moan as he brought his hand up between her thighs, felt the wetness there, slipped one finger, two, inside her, curled up, thumb on her clit. The hand on her hip slid over, held her hip, tightly, pressed her into the door, and he worried for a second about leaving bruises, about his thumb digging into the hollow at her hip, but then he fucked his fingers into her, rubbed the pad of his thumb against her clit, and she bucked into his hand, tugged at his hair.

Lee grinned, glanced up, caught her looking down at him, eyes hooded, lips parted. She rolled her hips into his hand, rising to meet his thrusts. "Lee," she said, and he could hear the pleading in her voice. He brought his mouth to her, replaced his thumb with his tongue, pressure from the flat of his tongue on her clit, and he heard his name again, this time gasping out of her mouth. He was hard, straining against his pants, and it was all he could do not to stand, open his pants, fuck her into the door. But he couldn't, not with the way she felt around his fingers, the way she smelled, the way she tasted, and he added a third finger, twisting it into her. She was making unintelligible noises above him, and he urged her thighs further apart. She brought one leg up, draped it over his shoulder, hooked her leg around his back, as if she could get him closer, get him into her with a pull of his hair and a tug with her leg.

He licked into her, let her set the pace, let her set the rhythm with the undulations of her body, just brought his free hand from where it held her hip. Used it to open her up more, to give him more of her, to get his mouth closer to her. He let his tongue slide down, against his fingers, then up, inside her. He felt her still under his mouth, that stillness that he knew, knew what it meant. Heard her keen above him, felt her hand tighten in his hair, felt her tighten around his fingers. He could hear her breaths, quick and shallow as she comes against his mouth, around him. He gave a last swipe with his tongue, felt her clench and shudder again.

Crystal's leg slid off his shoulder as Lee sat back on his heels, slipping his fingers out of her. She tugged at his hair and he stood up slowly, licking his fingers slowly. She took a sharp breath, pulled him to her, crushed her mouth against his. He opened his mouth to hers, brought his hand to her hip, shoving her more firmly against the door.

She brought her hand between them, rubbed against him, gazed up at him. "Come on, Lee, c'mon," she said, and he did, picking her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, tangled a hand in his hair. He carried her from the entry, into the house, looked up the stairs, calculated. Decided, moved towards the living room as she laughed. "Bed? Remember, we talked about it?"

He shook his head. "Too far, want you," he murmured, raising his mouth again, capturing hers. And he did, anywhere, just as long as it was soon, now. He didn't think he could make it up the stairs, not with her on him, rubbing against him, her bare skin on his pants, not with his pants tight on him.

Lee carried her to the living room, dropped her on the couch, stepped back, toed out of his shoes, slid his jacket off his shoulder – still on him, after how much he'd complained, but that's how much he wanted her, couldn't even wait. She stood up, grabbed his tie, wrapped it around her hand, pulled him towards her, pulled him in for a kiss. He leaned down, kissed her fiercely, untucked his shirt. She released his tie, started unbuttoning his shirt, trying to get it off him. He broke the kiss, stepped back, loosened his tie further, slipped it over his head, tossed it on the floor beside them. Stepped back in, kissed her again, moved his hands to her hips, hiked her dress up over them. They broke the kiss again as he lifted the dress over her head, let it join his tie. She shoved the shirt off his shoulders, moved her hand to his belt, unbuttoned his pants. He got rid of his shirt, struggled with his undershirt, then placed a hand on her stomach, pushed her back onto the couch, stepped out of his pants, stepped towards her. He knelt on the couch next to her, and she brought a hand up to his face, brought him in for a kiss. He pulled his socks off, threw them on the floor, moved his hands back to her bare skin, slid them up her sides. He stopped at her bra, reached around, unhooked it without breaking their kiss, added it to the pile of clothes on the floor.

Crystal pulled back, pushed him back on the couch, straddled his hips. He grinned up at her, wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, pulled her back to him. They kissed like that, on the couch, her straddling him, until she stopped again, looked at him. "Why are you still wearing clothes, why are you not fucking me already?"

And he looked down, lifted his hips, pushing down his boxer-briefs, sliding them over his hips, hissing as she settled onto his bared skin. She reached over his head, into the table next to the couch. Her breast was in front of his face, and he cupped it gently, brought his mouth to it, flicked the nipple with his tongue before taking it into his mouth. She faltered in her search, hissed out a breath. He brought his arms around her back, bringing her closer to him. He heard the drawer close above his head, felt her start to pull back, bit her nipple lightly, released her. She shuddered, pulled back, sat back on his thighs, foil square in her hands. "Found it, I knew we left some here," she said with a hitching laugh.

He laughed, sat up and gestured to her. She shook her head, opened the packaging, pulled the condom out, rolled it on him. He clenched his fists, tried to keep control, took a deep breath, watched her hand slide over him. And then. Then she lifted herself up, dragged herself across his cock, and he whimpered, dug his fingers into her thigh. She reacheed between them, guided him into her, settled down on him, around him, and it was all he could do to not come then, or to grab her, flip her over and fuck into her. He watched as she closed her eyes, rolled her head back, slowly rode him, body moving over his. He reached up, propped himself up on an elbow, pulled her down for a kiss. She obliged and then moved again, and it never got old, no matter how many times it happened, how often they did this, he never got used to watching her and feeling her. And she was riding him like she had all the time in the world, slowly, and he reached a hand up to where their bodies met, rubbed against her clit, watched her shudder with each touch, his other hand holding onto her thigh.

He tried to hold on, wait until she's come again, but it'd been too long, it'd been all night and he'd wanted to be in her all night, always, and he stilled, for just a second. And she knew, they'd done this before, they knew each other, and she brought her hands to his chest, leaned forward to kiss him, undulated again and again, and he dug both hands into her thighs, thrust up into her, and then he was coming and she sat back up, rode out her own orgasm.

She collapsed against him, moved off of him, sweaty and sticky and warm. He thought about moving them, moving from the couch, and he couldn't make himself care about it. He sat up, barely, rolled the condom off, tied it, threw it into the small trash can next to the couch, settled back down and pulled her onto him.

"That cannot stay there," she mumbled into his chest.

Lee laughed as he pet a hand down her hair, down her back, held her close. "I'll empty it later."

They stayed like that, dozing. Crystal laughed again. "We have a bed, you know. Remember, big and comfortable and not that far away?" she teased.

"We're fine here," Lee said, huffing a laugh out. He pulled the blanket draped across the back of the couch, pulled it over them.

When they woke up the next morning, they were slow to move, instead wrapping the blanket tightly around them, listening to the quiet.


End file.
